


Havoc at Ikea

by xXdreameaterXx



Series: Arrows of Eros [2]
Category: Doctor Who, Doctor Who & Related Fandoms, Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, IKEA
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-11
Updated: 2015-10-11
Packaged: 2018-04-25 23:14:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4980376
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xXdreameaterXx/pseuds/xXdreameaterXx
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a Tumblr prompt: John Smith and Clara Oswald can't find their way out of Ikea, so they try to cause as much havoc as needed to get them kicked out of the shop. Whouffaldi. AU.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Havoc at Ikea

**Author's Note:**

  * For [craftysquidz](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=craftysquidz).



John Smith was walking around the corner for what felt like the 50th time. This shop was a maze and he was more likely to spend the night here than to find what he was looking for and head home. He shouldn't have sold half of his furniture along with his house in Glasgow when he had moved to London, though back then it had seemed reasonable to just buy new things instead of paying roughly the same amount of money for the transport to London.  
Luckily he had already bought the basics and was just looking for some more shelves and maybe a little décor. Pillows and new bedsheets probably wouldn't hurt either. 

“Argh, fuck me!”  
John turned around to the female voice behind him who had been swearing loudly. It was the lovely, young brunette that he had already spotted a couple of times while walking around the same corridors over and over again and apparently she was as lost as he was. John hardly even noticed that he was staring at her when suddenly she spoke directly to him.  
“You don't happen to know the way to the exit, do you? I can't spend another minute in this hell hole!”  
John only shrugged. “I'm sorry. I'm afraid I got a little lost as well.”  
The woman groaned and sank down on the sofa right next to her, obviously positively surprised of how cosy it was because a few seconds later she was checking the price tag – and groaned again.  
“Looking for a new sofa?” John asked.  
“A new everything,” the woman said, seemingly irritated, “I used to live with a friend but she got engaged and yadda, yadda, so I'm moving into a flat of my own. Only about half of my things actually survived the move.”  
John decided that his feet could use a little break as well so he sat down next to her. The sofa really was comfortable.  
“Yeah,” he exhaled sharply, “They don't make things that last these days. My parents owned the same set of furniture for most of their marriage. Got them all for the wedding and the last old cupboard was replaced at their 50th wedding anniversary.”  
The woman hummed in reply, her eyes fixed on something in the distance.  
“So what do we do? Ask a shop assistant for the way out?” John suggested.  
She snorted. “Good luck finding one. I've seen _one_ in the two hours I've already spent in here and he vanished as quickly as he had appeared.”  
“Maybe if we caused a little havoc they would notice and someone would show up and throw us out?”  
The woman turned around to look at him. She seemed more than intrigued. “What kind of havoc?” she asked, her eyebrow raised.

John stood up from the sofa and walked a few steps forward to one of the display living rooms. He looked around before he took one of the pillows from the armchair and placed it right on the shelf next to some Swedish books. The fake plant went right in front of the television before he dropped a couple of random décor items on the couch.  
When John turned back to the woman, he found her laughing.  
“What do you think?” he asked, pointing at his creation.  
“I think you really suck at interior design,” she replied, still giggling, as she got up to see his work from up close.  
“Hey, _that_ ,” he said, pointing at the pillow on the shelf, “is first class art, my dear.”  
“Yeah, but is it enough to get us kicked out?” she asked and shortly after vanished behind the fake wall of the display living room.  
A moment later she re-emerged, holding a toilet brush and looking really proud. Carefully she placed it on the dining room table.

“Just for the record,” John said when he joined her there, “I wouldn't let you decorate my house either.”  
The woman shrugged and headed back in the bathroom. John was confused for a second, before he heard her shouting.  
“Oh no!” she yelled, “They're completely out of toilet paper! And the flush isn't working either!”  
John burst into laughter and looked around, but still there was no one in sight.  
“I'm afraid your little trick isn't working.”

The woman popped her head through the doorway and he could see that she was more than ready to curse again, but a new idea seemed to have struck her.  
“Come on, let's move on to the dining room,” she said and grabbed his hand before he could protest, dragging him along, “Just play along, okay?”

She took two plates out of the kitchen cupboard along with some of the silverware and placed all of it neatly on the dining room table.  
“Honey, dinner is ready!” she called jokingly, pointing at the chair John was supposed to sit in.  
“How lovely, darling,” he replied with a smile and thought he noticed a hint of a blush sweep over the woman's face, “What are we having?”  
She sat down at the other end of the table and opened her handbag and produced two plastic wrapped sandwiches.  
“You can't-” John attempted to stop her, thinking that it might go a little too far, but the woman had already placed a sandwich on each plate.  
“You started this,” she reminded him, looking at him playfully, “You're gonna see this through with me. Now, darling, please, use the cutlery. My grandmother gave it to us for our wedding and she insisted that we use it.”  
As soon as they had taken their first bite they both burst into laughter, not even stopping as the first people started to notice what they were doing and gave them a couple of suspicious looks. John couldn't help it. Despite the trouble they both could get into he was enjoying this. He couldn't even remember the last time he had had so much fun with a complete stranger and he was beginning to feel flattered that a beautiful and much younger woman like her had started this charade, assuming the role of his wife. Just looking at their age she could've been his daughter.  
“I'm so sorry, darling, but I'm afraid your marvellous cooking has made me forget my wife's name,” he said with a smile.  
The woman was still giggling. “I'm Clara. And what's the name of my loving husband?”  
“John,” he replied, “And since you did all of the cooking, it would seem only fair that I do the dishes.”

Once they had finished their sandwiches, not without receiving some more amused stares from passing shoppers, John started picking up the dirty dishes and brought them into the kitchen next door. He turned the tap, but of course there was no water.  
“Honey, I think we've got a plumbing problem in the kitchen as well as in the bathroom. No running water,” he called into the dining room.  
Clara immediately joined him in the kitchen, feigning horror at their lack of water.  
“Oh no, darling, can you fix that?” she asked.  
John smiled as he opened the cupboard under the sink and went down in his knees, looking into it.  
“I'm not an expert, but it seems as if someone forgot to install water pipes,” he said and looked back up to Clara, who, if he wasn't too much mistaken, had been checking him out.  
“You know what,” she said after a moment, “If you were my husband, I'd probably have you shag me on the counter now.”  
“Uhm,” John spluttered in reply, “I'm. . . uh, I'm sorry?”  
“I think we should call a plumber tomorrow morning. The 24 hour services are too expensive. I'm feeling tired. Care to join me in bed?”  
Before John could even remotely wrap his mind around what Clara had just said, she had disappeared through the next door, which, he guessed, led to the bedroom. He followed her wordlessly, watching as Clara kicked off her shoes and skidded over the hardwood floor until she landed on what looked like a very soft and cosy bed.  
“Come on, John, no proper havoc without an unmade bed,” she said, holding up the duvet for him.  
Reluctantly he took off his shoes as well and he couldn't help but wonder if there was any more behind Clara's act. She was so beautiful, so warm, so funny in the craziest of ways, a part of him just wanted a chance beyond getting kicked out of Ikea.  
“Oi, silver fox, hurry up before my arm gets tired!”

John stepped forward, considering his next move until his feet already hit the bed and he still had no idea what to do, so he simply followed Clara's order and let her cover both of them with the duvet. It was eerily quiet under the blanket except for the rustling of the fabric and John grew increasingly nervous.  
“Are you married, John?” Clara suddenly asked in a low voice.  
“No.”  
“Girlfriend?”  
He swallowed. “No.”  
“Gay?”  
“What?” John asked back in confusion. Did he give off that kind of vibe? Was that why Clara was so ready to play house with him, cause it had felt safe for her to do so? “No.”  
“I bet we'd get kicked out of we made sex noises,” Clara whispered and he could hear the giggle she was holding back, “Though I'm not so keen on leaving anymore.”  
“Oh?” John uttered, not really knowing what else to say. Being so close to her seemed to make his brain go a little fuzzy. He really wanted nothing more than to reach out and touch her.  
“Yeah, it's been kind of fun. At least for me,” Clara admitted.  
“You're right,” he agreed after a moment, “It was fun. _Is_ fun.”  
“John?”  
“Yes?”  
He heard Clara take a deep breath and then nothing for a long moment. Suddenly her lips were on his own and John needed a moment to understand what was happening until he finally opened his mouth to her. His heart was almost jumping out of his chest in excitement. Kissing Clara felt better than he could've imagined it. Just as he was ready to close his arms around her and pull her closer he heard someone clear his through right next to them.  
Clara either hadn't heard it or she was ignoring it deliberated because she pressed herself a little closer against him and uttered the tiniest moan.  
“Excuse me, I'm going to have to ask you to come with me,” a male voice right next them said strictly.

This time neither of them cold ignore that they had obviously been caught and when John broke the kiss and raised the duvet he could clearly see the Ikea employee standing next to the bed, looking more than just unamused at the sight of them. 

Grabbing their shoes and bags they followed the man into a small office just around a few corners and listened to his speech about violating the rules and ruining shop property. He explained that they were officially banned from visiting the shop for three months as he led them to the exit.  
“I'm sorry,” Clara said as soon as she had taken a lungful of fresh air, “I didn't realize they'd ban us from Ikea altogether.”  
John only shrugged. “It's okay. I think I can survive three more months without an additional bookshelf.”  
“And I guess I can sleep on my mattress for a bit longer.”  
“You know,” John said, turning around to look at Clara, “There's a really nice shop for furniture about an hour outside of London. I got all my things from there. I admit, it's not quite as modern as Ikea, but maybe you'll find something you like.”  
“I don't have a car,” Clara admitted sadly.  
“I could drive you. Since I already know where it is.”  
He had attempted to sound casual, but a knowing smile immediately spread over her face. He'd blown it.  
“I'd love that,” she replied to his surprise, “Maybe I'll even reward you with a real home cooked meal.”  
John beamed at her in reply. Maybe, _maybe_ there was a small chance that playing house with Clara would soon turn into more than just a way to get kicked out of Ikea.


End file.
